If you want to come into the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse, you have to stomp the snow off your feet – or take a mop and clean up the melting debris. As I sit in the old north porch alcove of this place, I am surrounded on three sides with bending boughs, weighted down with snow. (Fortunately, glass separates me from them . . . and the continuing falling snow.)

It might not be a bad idea to be snatched away for a little interview on the Mother Ship – as long as they are not slimy. I have a hard time dealing with slime.

Come to think of it, putting the snow out of mind, being on the Mother Ship when the END that www.weather.com has been screaming about comes could be, well, life-saving. The ship would no doubt have super radiation shields. Of course, there is no guarantee it would not be a radiation-protected slime pit.

Heck, snow in late March, even a lot of snow in late March isn’t that bad. We had a St. Patrick’s Day blizzard here about 40 years ago; I think it was exactly 40 years ago. Lordy. But, anyway, I wasn’t here then; I was there, trying to get here and when I finally did -some days later – the piled-up along the roadway at the airport was almost as tall as the car. This supports the theory that if you wait a bit, you CAN get from THERE to HERE, but that is the inverse of the old Maine saying . . . and this ain’t Maine. It proves nothing.